Catholic and Loving it!

I didn't expect it to be a priest who expressed disappointment at yesterdays "boring" blog entry about the Eucharist. He tells me he logged on to read the exciting tale of my weekend in Exeter and found "boring" blog entries about "religion". I don't usually do requests... but I'll make an exception because, well because I was going to blog about it anyway. Besides which I probably would do requests, just nobody ever makes them.

As you know, that blighter Mark is fleeing the warm climes of Blighty to the rain drenched Italy with a "girl" - a girl who does not understand the intricacies of a game of 'grill hand'. Thank God he has such blummin' good mates who will do all that's necessary to give him a darn good send off.

'All that's necessary' entails a medieval banquet, replete with wench and mead!

I know its short notice - sorry! It would be awesome if you could join in the mayhem and give Mark oodles more happy memories to cherish before he goes to a land that did not grow up on Bottom and Red Dwarf.

Please come dressed in medieval garb, with a humorous anecdote about Mark to be spake in the stylings of Shakespeare!

We can put some of you up for the Friday night beforehand, if that helps, and for the Saturday night.

So it began...

Our car is SORNed at the moment (probably indefinitely) and so I looked online at train tickets. A "saver" return to Exeter is £120. Yikes! "But James" you ask (as several people did) surely you can get a railcard. They said it in that patronising parent voice as well, the one that says "trains are only expensive for you because you are an idiot". Look. Railcards give a 1/3 off, which is £40. But they cost £28. So you save £12 with a railcard. "Oh but you still have the railcard!". Great, for all those other times I go on long journeys without Ella and the Babe. Anyway, turns out that if you are 25 or over you can hire a car for the weekend for £35. There's no way (I figured, because I am an idiot) that I can spend £80 on petrol. Our huge car only used about £70 when we went to Exeter last time and this car will be smaller. It fuel prices have gone up. I spent £80 on petrol meaning I spent £115 getting to Exeter. £7 more than with a railcard. However (aha!) I gave a lift to a stranger I met on Facebook and they contributed to petrol and made it very much cheaper than the train.

Listen here train people... You are supposed to be the cheap option, for people like me who can't afford to run a car. £120 is not cheap. If four of us wanted to go, you would charge £480! I can hire a car and drive the four of us for £115, that's £28.75. Surely your train experiences similar economies of scale. Your train should be £30 to Exeter. Otherwise it's carbon-footprint ahoy!

So, yes, hire a car. I got a nice 'tango' one. A Ford Ka. Alas, these days we are three on a single income and poorness is our friend. We are trying to avoid spending money when not necessary and trips to Exeter are not technically, well, necessary. So I convinced myself it was an important occasion which it is really because it will cost a hell of a lot more to go and get pissed with Mark once he lives in Italy.

I drove to Sheffield then, to pick up Nic. Sheffield has been cleaned up very nicely these days and has an exciting water feature. Turns out Nic is only a stranger to me, he did archery with my wife for years at university and then went down south to live with Mark. We had a pleasant journey south. Exeter is about five hours from Hull (four from Sheffield) though both those times are the optimistic low versions you tell yourself before you set off. A stop at Hopwood Park and then you hit the south proper where the trees are a different shade of green and the road starts passing more interesting hills. We needed to be in Exeter for 2pm to get a train with the guys to Newton Abbot. We were late, so we carried on through to Newton Abbot by car and met them there. The car is faster than the train (Listen here train people...) so we beat them to it and had time for a bite to eat. A "Cornish" pasty handmade in Devon.

We met the guys at Tucker's Maltings which is a fascinating place for anybody who drinks beer. We had a guided tour and learned all about how to turn barley in to malt. In summary they allow the barley to germinate (start growing) and then when it has grown just enough to turn the starch in the barley to sugar they kill it. This involves many pieces of exciting Victorian Machinery. They even have a DC motor which is over 100 years old and still works.

After the visit to Tuckers Maltings we headed back to Exeter for some thumb twiddling until it was time to head over to Kate's for the Stag Proper. Kate had turned her house in to a Medieval banquet replete with wench and hay all over the floor. By now Nic and I had discovered the terrible truth, that we were the only ones to have "come dressed in medieval garb". Ed produced a Monk outfit for Mark but the others were rather, well, anachronistic. We drank huge quantities of Mead and consumed huge quantities of Meat. Meat and Mead. Mmmmm

We played some drinking games with Buckfast Tonic Wine. You may have heard stories of how vampires retain their youthful looks by bathing in the blood of virgins. The youthfulness of the virgins is somehow stored in the blood and the vampires absorb it and maintain their youthful looks. Well, the Monks at Buckfast Abbey use a similar process to become holy. Using a top secret technique they extract all traces of evil from their souls and place it in to wine (which is red, like blood). The Monks are left Holy and the wine is sold, primarily in Scotland where "Many politicians and social activists single out Buckfast Tonic Wine as being particularly responsible for crime, disorder, and general social deprivation in these communities" and it is described as "an irresponsible drink in its own right". The drink has become "a badge of pride amongst those who are involved in antisocial behaviour". Those dastardly monks! It tastes of pure evil as well, which is why we used it in our drinking games. When I knocked over the Jenga (Ed pushed me) I had to down 'three fingers' of Bucky. It was grotesque.

We had sword fights, we juggled turnips, we had a great time and then fell asleep in front of Monty Python's Holy Grail.

A good time was had by all.

The next morning I decided to go to Mass at the Catholic Chaplaincy. It was a bit of a poignant moment really because of course it's the same as it ever was and yet it isn't. The Chaplaincy is a place very much alive and full of life and yet it seemed to me somehow empty without old friends. It was really good to go back and at the same time I half wished I hadn't, though in hindsight I'm glad I did. As I drove back I noticed the house I used to live in on Cowley Bridge Road is no longer white but has been painted a kind of ugly salmon pink. Ugh.

The journey home was exciting because Exeter decided to have a fuel crisis. I had 300 miles to travel and an empty tank. Exeter had queues and empty pumps. Fortunately we managed to find a petrol station with some extortionately priced fuel and got home. It was fathers day, so I met my Dad at my sisters in Brough and then on to Ella's Dad's to see the Babe, who even seemed pleased to see me.

I even got a balloon hat.